


Meddyliau

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, High School, Humor, I'm Sorry, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Kissing, Kissing Lessons, Let A Boy Dream Okay, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious, Pining, Real Life Doesn't Work Like This, SO SORRY, Solve All Problems By Disappearing Into Fanfiction, The Second Most Self-Indulgent Fic I've Posted So Far, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Quel est ce bordel - What is this mess?It was supposed to be what the fuck, but in all honesty I think that is better. This is so OOC I'm so sorry, I mean, at least Aaron Burr is accurate?? This is the closest to smut I'm able to write currently?





	Meddyliau

"He looks lost." James muttered from besides him, eyebrows knitted tightly together and looking a little more than confused. He then looked at Thomas, as though Thomas was able to explain, but for once, he was at a loss. He offered a one-shouldered shrug in response, though his eyes remained where they were, upon an incredibly unsure looking Alexander Hamilton. 

Alexander Hamilton and being unsure were words that never mixed, yet the predicament now presented offered no other explaination. Hamilton was out of his usual area. Normally, he would inhabit the library, or him and his group of friends would crowd in Washington's office, doing god knows what. Most likely writing down arguments to frustrate the rest of the student population, or planning on how to be annoying as possible. That sounded about right. 

At Thomas's quiet musings, James nudged him, sending him a look. Thomas nudged him in halfhearted retaliation, but he continued to watch Hamilton wander around the area with his lips thinned and trying to look as though he always frequented this part of school, besides the bleachers. 

"God." Thomas sighed, crossing his arms and scowling. Unfortunately, Hamilton was unable to pick up on the fact that he was deeply unwelcome there, and continued to wonder around, apparently in search of something. "Even outside of lessons he  _never_  ceases to frustrate." 

James made a small, noncommittal sound in vague agreement. He was equally - if not, less, because scarcely anything phased him - confused as Thomas, yet didn't give any indication of Hamilton being completely unwelcomed. If anything, he seemed almost evaluative, as though he was piecing together jagged ends of a puzzle to create a rough picture. Thomas, unfortunately, was unable to work out a different idea other than the thought that Hamilton had come just to piss people off. James nudged him to get his attention before speaking. "One of us should go over to him."

Thomas looked expectantly at James, and wasn't surprised at all to see a mirrored response. Thomas raised an eyebrow, hoping that James would cave in and approach Hamilton, though unfortunately, James had squared his jaw and looked Thomas dead in the eye.

"Not me." James replied flatly, hands raised as though he would be able to ward off the unwelcome idea. He seemed to find something amusing, but was scarcely able to bite back a grin. "He's not  _my_  enemy."

"Fine." Thomas exhaled forcefully, as though he was about to bare a great burden for James, because willingly interacting with Hamilton outside of lesson was going to be a goddamn chore. " _I'll_  deal with him."

"My hero." James deadpanned, and his face remained completely blank. Thomas sighed again, looking at James as though he was about to change his mind if Thomas hesitated enough. Unfortunately, James was as unsympathetic to his plight as Thomas expected, and to underline his disinterest, his gaze returned to his book. He cursed softly, scuffing his heel against firm concrete, before James's eyes snapped up back to him, and he raised an eyebrow.

Thomas scowled. He turned his back on James, taking determined steps forward, approaching Hamilton. He seemed unaware of Thomas's approach, biting down on his lip as his eyes flicked through the crowds. Thomas crossed his arms, remaining an appropriate distance away before addressing him. "What are you doing here, Hamilton?"

Hamilton, of course, hadn't expected Thomas to approach, so he made a small, startled noise and turned as quickly as possible. His face colored slightly when he realised exactly who had caught him off guard. "Free country." Hamilton retorted, trying to regain posture as quickly as possible. "I'm allowed on public grounds."

"You never willingly interact with people outside of the library." Thomas replied, trying to seem as unbothered as possible, and as though he never wondered what Hamilton did outside of lessons, or who he interacted with, or his interests (asides from arguing, the color green and writing ridiculous amounts of things in the span of a minute).

Hamilton seemed surprised at Thomas acknowledging his usual hangout place, pausing to consider his words before responding. He seemed hard-pressed to say something, so Thomas immediately knew that it was either a request or a very well thought out insult that Thomas privately enjoyed, because it meant that his own retort would need to be as sharp and quick as possible. His bets were on the latter, so Hamilton caught his attention after he blurted out, "I was looking for you."

Thomas blinked, glancing behind him as though someone else would materialize and patiently explain the alternate dimension he had somehow fallen in. He tried to school his features as fast as possible, into one of calm interest. "Why?"

"I like John." Hamilton said quickly, before freezing. He immediately muttered something else under his breath, seemingly to himself, grimacing. Somehow, it was possible for Hamilton to blush more, as the color spread rapidly across his cheeks.

"I'm not surprised." Thomas stated flatly, because he wasn't. Laurens and Hamilton were always close, and a part of him expected this to happen, yet he was still taken aback. Not only was Hamilton currently to  _him_ , but he was sheepish and damn near shy to the point where Thomas was sure Hamilton had been given a new personality.  _Shy_  was certainly not in Hamilton's lexicon of emotions. "What's your point?"

At this, Hamilton's lips thinned, glancing down at the concrete before sterling himself as quickly as possible. He met Thomas's eyes in a moment of sheer determination, embarrassment forgotten as suddenly as it came. "I also need your help."

"I'm not helping you ask John out." Thomas stated. There was no way in hell he would do that, and looking too closely into the reason why brought up a whole lot of questions that he didn't want the answer to. At this, Hamilton looked at him sharply.

"Not ask out." Hamilton quickly corrected, as though Thomas was being completely ridiculous and picking up a hypothesis without any reasonable basis. Thomas would be offended if Hamilton's current words and attitude didn't interest him far more than he cared to admit 

"Oh?" He inquired, slipping into a drawl that had Hamilton glance down at the floor, tensing slightly. Hamilton took a half-step backwards, seemingly quite unsure with what to do with himself.

"This is a mistake." Hamilton announced, glancing behind him. Thomas frowned, wondering what the hell Hamilton was trying to explain (and doing an awful job at doing so). It was unusual, for a man that rarely shut up to suddenly loose his words.

"You've got my interest." Thomas stated, his voice purposefully neutral. At this, Hamilton winced, but he remained as impassive as possible. This didn't work very well; Hamilton was quite an tempestuous person, so he was incredibly easy to read.

"I don't know how to - you know." Hamilton gestured vaguely, pausing. He bit his lip again, softly, and rested his hands in his pockets before shrugging. He swallowed, before awkwardly finishing his sentence. "Do anything."

Thomas stared at him for a long time, his imagination rapidly conjuring variations of what  _anything_  meant. Hamilton seemed earnest as well, and Thomas immediately knew that whatever Hamilton asked, he would oblige with. As he tried to ignore this fact, he arched an eyebrow, opting to question instead of thinking too deeply. "What exactly are you asking me?"

"I've never kissed anyone." Hamilton muttered in a rush. He tried to regain his posture as quickly as possible, squaring his shoulders and trying not to show his self-consciousness.

Thomas would point it out, just to slightly frustrate Hamilton, but his mind was preoccupied playing catch-up with what Hamilton had said, and what that indicated. A second passed, then two. Thomas stared at Hamilton blankly, which caused Hamilton to shuffle his feet.

"Nobody?" Thomas inquired. It was the only fact that he could focus on; he refused to look too deeply into this. Hamilton frowned at him, as though he was looking closely for signs of mocking or amusement. When he found none, Hamilton offered a small shrug, trying to seem as uncaring as possible.

"Never." Hamilton confirmed, lips thinning just slightly to indicate slight agitation. Thomas frowned at Alex. He had a vague idea of what Hamilton was implying, but couldn't make assumptions.

"What's your point?" Thomas crossed his arms across his chest, unconsciously slipping into a defensive posture, trying not to notice Hamilton's blush darken.

Hamilton sighed slightly, looking as though he knew the answer was going to be. "I want you to teach me."

Thomas's eyes flicked across Hamilton's face, then, for a second, glanced down at soft lips. His eyes lingered there for a few seconds too long, and he met Hkltoms eyes. Hamilton looked completely solemn, in spite of what he had said, of the words that made no sense whatsoever. "Holy shit, you're serious."

"As a heart attack." Hamilton smiled wryly.

"Jesus. Of all the things-" Thomas cut himself off with a sigh. He turned around to glance at James, as though James was somehow able to overhear from a few meters away. James was watching them with a grin, but when he noticed Thomas's eyes on him, he immediately looked back at his book. He faced Hamilton.

"Will you?" Hamilton asked, tone purposefully nondescript. His hands remained in his pockets, trying to reign in his tension before Thomas could pick up on it, and failing completely. Thomas frowned at Hamilton, trying to form a statement other than a stumbled agreement or asking Hamilton what his idea was supposed to achieve.

He eventually settled on an flat, "This is strange, even for you."

"Right." Hamilton agreed quickly, though didn't sound remotely surprised at Thomas response. He then gestured vaguely behind him and took another half step of distance. "I'll just... go."

Typical of Hamilton to listen out for something that wasn't there. Thomas had taken care to phrase his sentence so it wasn't a denial, but Hamilton enjoyed making his life just a bit more difficult. Thomas sighed. "Yes."

Hamilton froze. His eyes widened slightly, as though he hadn't heard Thomas correctly, but a trace of something that looked suspiciously akin to hope flashed across his face. "What?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. He stepped forward, gently cupping Hamilton's cheek and paused a second or so. Hamilton didn't object, breath hitching in his throat and pupils dilated. Thomas would've smirked, but he was too occupied focusing on Hamilton, on the way that his pulse was rapid, or the way that Hamilton didn't pull away, or give any indication of discomfort. Thomas pressed a brief kiss against Hamilton's lips, ignoring the unbidden thought of ' _finally'_ , but allowed himself to memorize the feeling of Hamilton close against him, of warm lips pressed against his. There was a thought replaying in his mind, too loud to ignore, repeating the fact that  _he_  was Hamilton's first kiss.

Hamilton seemed to take a few seconds to think about what happened. His fingers brushed against his lips, almost dazed. He didn't make any distance between them. He awkwardly gestured, before stilling. "I, uh."

Thomas bit back a smirk, moving his hand so that it no longer rested against Hamilton's cheek. At this, Hamilton gave a slight frown, but otherwise didn't give a reaction. Thomas paused, wanting to say something else, but words wouldn't come to him.

In short, he was fucked.

He had agreed to something that he had wanted - still wanted - but he couldn't get (more) attached to someone who's interest was someone else. A stupid yet major part of him didn't give a damn about Laurens, or about the fact that he and Hamilton would never work.

Thomas decided that he was already fucked, so he might as well go down with as loud a crash as possible. When he spoke, he took care to make sure he sounded even, but his voice sounded lower than usual to himself.  "Here, after school."

Hamilton looked at him blankly before something clicked, and he muttered a hurried agreement. They stood close for several seconds, the air taut and settling around Thomas's chest heavily. Hamilton bit his lip, and Thomas didn't mean to trace the movement, but thankfully Hamilton didn't notice. Hamilton offered him a weak smile, one that seemed far too bewildered to be genuine, before turning to leave. He watched Hamilton leave, damn near in a trance, before snapping himself out of it.

He was so,  _so_  fucked.

It didn't help that he was completely still, staring into space and not even noticing that. Even though Hamilton was out of sight, his heartbeat was still fluttery, and he added that to the alarmingly long list of things he will procrastinate dealing with. With a small sigh, he headed back to James. Who, of course, looked as though his birthday, Christmas and Halloween had all arrived at once. Thomas looked at him threateningly, eyes narrowed as he gritted out, "Not one word."

There was a pause, and James wiggled his eyebrows, wearing a huge, beaming grin that looked damn near painful. Unfortunately, he obided by the ( _demand_ ) request, but his smile spoke a thousand words, and Thomas didn't want to hear any of them.

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

Thomas had never noticed how long school was before. He shared no lessons with Hamilton that particular day - he still wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed at this, though James's knowing smile told him that James thought the latter. He wasn't used to a contradictory mix of emotions. At first, they were mildly interesting, a welcome distraction from the repetition and recurrency of his lessons, but now it was frustrating.

At break, Hamilton didn't seek him out, and he pretended that he wasn't hoping on seeing him during the day but whilst he had a flare for the dramatics, he wasn't good at lying convincingly to someone that knew all of his tells. James had slipped into one of the world's most annoying habits - innocently asking about Hamilton's friends, wondering where they were out loud - so in response, Thomas had asked about where his best friend, Lafayette, was.

This worked against him. James was offended for roughly two seconds, before he shrugged and suggested that they should go and search for him. Thomas disagreed with this idea - saying that he and Lafayette would meet at a later time, instead of discussing the likelihood of Hamilton being there with Laurens. It didn't help that Thomas had suddenly developed a deep dislike of Laurens.

"Is he your new enemy?" James asked cheerfully, despite the fact that they were currently in a Geography lesson, but the teacher didn't seem to notice, so James elaborated loudly. "John Laurens, as in."

"Shut up, James." Thomas hissed, nudging his supposed best friend for being completely (yet unsurprisingly) evil about this. If Thomas wanted to think rationally, he could reason that he was equally evil when James and his current girlfriend started dating. However, it seemed that Thomas had only recently developed the habit of ignoring what was rational.

James gave a small frown in mock-confusion, hand placed underneath his chin in the universal position of deep thought. Thomas briefly considered turning around and joining the loud discussion that Peggy and Angelica Schuyler were having about some party, but he decided that James's sarcasm was far more appealing than Angelica's wrath. "That wasn't a no."

"He isn't my new enemy." Thomas scowled, trying to underline the point by crossing his arms, keeping his eyes on the teacher who attempting to inform them about the completely fascinating subject of beaches in New York. Thomas had tuned out five minutes into the lesson, but James didn't know that.

"You're right. He's not your new enemy." James sighed. A less wise man than would relax at this statement, taking James's words as a sign of a grudging, bitter concede. However, Thomas had ten years of experience with James, so he knew better, and waited patiently for the punchline. "He's always been your enemy, he's only chosen now to reveal himself."

"I need new friends." Thomas sighed, though he held no real threat in his voice. They both knew that, whilst James was certainly frustrating him, Thomas didn't care enough to ignore him. James shrugged in response, and Thomas thought that he had dropped the subject, but was promptly proven wrong when James asked him if he wanted equipment to create a voodoo doll.

The glare Thomas gave him was enough of an answer.

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

He was nervous.

He was  _never_  nervous, yet here he was, wanting nothing more than to pace up and down because he was stupid enough to say yes to an idea presented by Hamilton. He knew he was smarter than that, yet it seemed that all his intelligence had jumped off a burning ship. He only had a minute to reign in his emotions, as surprisingly, Hamilton wasn't late. It was rather ironic; Hamilton was always in a hurry, always quick with his words, yet being on time seemed to be an underlying issue.

"I almost didn't expect you to be here." Hamilton offered a small smile, meeting his eyes with no hesitation. It seemed that all of the anxiousness that had been around him in the morning morning was next to gone.

"Vice versa." Thomas retorted, and was deeply relieved when his voice sounded uninterested in everything going on. Hamilton offered a shrug, looking vaguely unsure, before trying to achieve the same indifference Thomas had.

"So... What now?" Hamilton asked, and Thomas almost smiled at the anxious anticipation in his voice. Even if he was doing this for Hamilton to be with John, it didn't make Hamilton's sudden interest in him less pleasing.

Thomas, however, did smirk. This expression was less honest and less open than a smile, and it was always fun to see Hamilton scowl in response, then mutter a word that was most often ' _smug_ '. Today was no exception. It seemed that Hamilton's vocabulary was expanding, as instead of the usual monosyllabic response, he opted to say ' _arrogant_ '.

Thomas ignored him, stepping close enough to Hamilton so that there was a mere inch or so of distance between them. Hamilton rested his hands so they were slightly above his hips, the touch cautious and unsure. Thomas's heart stuttered at the feeling of Hamilton so close to him, with his hands against him. Instead of focusing on the quick, unsteady beat of his pulse, or the thick heat that was beginning to pool low in his chest, he placed his hands on Hamilton's shoulders, near his neck, and closed the distance between them.

There was hesitance on both sides; Hamilton wasn't sure what to do, and Thomas wanted to remain light, in case Hamilton wanted to pull away. The softness of this action was nothing like their fights, there was no aggression or roughness, just a slight movement of lips against lips, gentle touches that felt like caresses, and Thomas knew he shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he was, but that didn't seem to matter. Not when Hamilton was pressed flush against him, endearingly careful.

When they parted, they remained close against eachother. Their eyes had met, and neither seemed willing - or capable - of looking away. Hamilton's pupils were blown, breathing slightly labored than before and lips barely parted.

It was at that sight that made Thomas pressed his lips against Hamilton's. Hamilton didn't seem to know how goddamn tempting he lookef, and Thomas knew that he was more than damned by this, but it didn't matter, not when Alex gave a small, content sigh, melting against Thomas's chest and fitting perfectly against him. This time, when they moved for breath, Thomas kept himself occupied by mouthing against Hamilton's neck, placing gentle nips against skin, enough to make Hamilton gasp and moan. Each sound sent a flash of sparks through him, so he allowed himself to leave a slight mark, low enough to be covered, but still there, and Thomas felt a low rush of satisfaction.

"Fuck,  _Thomas_ -" Hamilton gasped, his voice rough and hands against his waist tightening. Thomas shifted back so that he could look at the expression on his face, the lust clouding his eyes. Hamilton was regarding him with equal intensity before he closed the distance between them. He wasn't as hesitant as before, trying to take control of the kiss but gaining none. This didn't stop him from trying, from biting down softly against Thomas's lips.

This time, when they parted, there was slightly more distance than before. Thomas gave a shaky exhale, trying to think past a sluggish fog and finding himself quite unable to do so. Hamilton seemed caught in the same daze. They stood there for several seconds, breathing in. Thomas brushed against the mark he had left with the pad of his thumb. "I'm surprised you thought you needed help with this." Thomas eventually muttered, voice dropped an octave.

"You never know." Hamilton offered with a slight smile, one that Thomas mimicked. His chest felt light, impossibly so, and it felt right to be with Hamilton like this. Even if the method of getting here was less than favorable, and the end result would probably take a while to get used to, and even longer to accept.

_Damn it._

It was better to ignore that. He pushed that thought away with brisk strength, trying to ignore what would happen when Laurens and Hamilton were committed, and Thomas was left with memories. Trying wasn't the same as doing, though, and he failed with such extremity that even Burr wouldn't be able to call it adequate. He tried to keep his expression only mildly curious, as though he wasn't actually interested, but it was polite to ask. "Are you going to ask out Laurens?"

Hamilton regarded at him with a frown, eyes soft and looking for a comprehension that he was unable to grasp. It took a second or so before Hamilton understood, most likely due to the fact that Thomas had used Laurens's last name. "John?" Hamilton asked. "Oh. I - I don't know yet."

At the mention of Laurens, Hamilton blushed, glancing down to the floor and looking vaguely caught out. The expression was cute on Hamilton, even if it solidified Laurens and his future relationship. "When it happens, good luck."

"See you tomorrow." Hamilton offered, time purposefully light. Thomas tried to regain his usual act of calm indifference, but found it difficult, and shrugged in response. They both hed in different directions. If his thoughts were still muddled over an hour later, then that was fine, because it meant he wasn't thinking too deeply.

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

If James didn't stop smirking, Thomas will hit him.

Perhaps not  _hit_  him. That felt far too extreme, though it didn't make the want to do so less. He considered other options, and finally settled on one. James might find a rather strongly worded letter in his locker, and Thomas will deny any involvement whatsoever. A plan for revenge, however, was unable to distract him from the pure unadulterated frustration that came with James knowing exactly what situation he was in. He tried to maintain the silence during the walk to their next class - political science, and one of the only ones that he shared with Hamilton. Which meant that James was going to be insufferable for an entire goddamn hour. 

"So." James began, and Thomas didn't even have to look to know that James would be wiggling his eyebrows. When he looked, James was wearing a ridiculously wide grin, and Thomas reconsidered vetoing the idea of hitting James. "How was it?"

Thomas took a few seconds to reply, and his pause from an immediate retort brought James's attention to him. He sighed, glaring at James before stating carefully, "I hate you."

"Uh-huh." James said slowly, in the tone of voice that indicated his disbelief but willingness to play along. James, of course, continued to be evil, even with the distraction of someone walking into him and both muttering an apology in unison. "Did you have fun? Oh my god, you're blushing."

"I don't blush." Thomas immediately snapped in response, and James promptly sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"Don't lie to me." James stated, rather solemnly, eyes wide. He pressed a palm against his chest, where Thomas assumed his heart would be. "It hurts my  _feelings_."

Thomas didn't reply to James until they were stood outside of their next class. He tried to place the odd rush of nervous excitement, before deciding that it was better if he didn't. He turned to face James, and raised an eyebrow. "If you don't cease to piss me off, it won't be your feelings that are hurt. Don't be evil, and I mean it."

"I won't." James promised, and Thomas knew that he wouldn't, because James knew where the boundaries were and would never overstep them. Unlike Hamilton, who didn't give a fuck about boundaries, and a day without breaking one would be considered a deep failure on his behalf.

"Appreciated." Thomas retorted, though James could hear that he was being genuine despite the flat tone of voice. With that, James entered first, continuing the conversation with something completely random, as though pencils were all they had been discussing. Thomas was deeply thankful, despite the fact that this line of monotonous discussion caught the attention of one Aaron Burr. Thomas could see the exact moment James had lost his will to live, but he was far too polite to even consider trying to block Burr out, and thus proceeded a five minute long discussion about why shading pencils weren't suitable for writing with. As subtly as he could, his gaze slided along the class, trying to look casual and as though he wasn't looking for anyone in particular.

Hamilton, of course, was besides Laurens.

Thomas didn't like the way Laurens spoke, or his speaking pattern. Far too loud, too informal, and with too many gaps between the words, as though he was waiting on someone else to finish the sentence for him. His (rather negative) musings were promptly cut off when Hamilton met his eyes.

He tried to feign neutrality, regain his footing and try to pretend that he wasn't caught out. Hamilton seemed equally surprised to have noticed Thomas looking at him, and he raised an eyebrow. James nudged him, evidently sensing his embarrassed discomfort, and asked for his opinion on whether the color of pencils indicated how long they would last.

James really was his best friend.

After two minutes of serious discussion, with the group coming to the conclusion that orange pencils were destined to be lesser than its monochrome kin, Thomas risked a glance back at Hamilton. 

Hamilton was occupied with an animated discussion - most likely arguing, since that was all he seemed capable of when communicating - and Lafayette had dramatically raised his voice to the point where they were gaining interest from others. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed that Hamilton wasn't looking at him, but he shrugged it off.

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

As soon as class ended, only mildly disrupted by Peggy Schuyler standing on a table and announcing that _all were welcome_ at some party she was throwing, James practically sprinted out of class to meet his girlfriend. He turned quickly before he left, bouncing on his heels, and announcing something grandly about a nine week anniversary. Even Burr looked a little unimpressed by this, but James didn't notice. It meant that Thomas had to stick besides Burr, or look as though James was his only friend in front of both Hamilton and Laurens.

"Don't look now." Burr began slowly, his voice quiet, cutting the awkward silence between them. Somehow, the quietness of his voice was able to carry over the shrieking students around them. "But I believe that there is an angry-looking Frenchman following us."

"Should we run?" Thomas asked, halfhearted, and Burr have a small sigh of dismay. He empathetically shook his head, eyes wide as though Lafayette was about to attack them. "Yeah, I thought so too."

Lafayette wasn't fucking around, though. Sometimes, when he wanted to discuss an issue with someone, he would spend the day crafting passive aggressive comments and accusatory looks. Today did not follow a familiar pattern, as Lafayette had walked in front of them, blocking their path, and both were therefore unavailable to feign ignorance at not seeing Lafayette. Fortunately, his eyes were narrowed in suspicion, not anger, which meant that Thomas had a slight advantage.

However, he was still dealing with Lafayette.

This was a significant problem.

"This is a significant problem." Lafayette stated in English, which meant that he was all business and not up for any shit. Burr paused, features freezing dramatically, before he offered an awkward smile and attempted to diffuse the situation by talking about why cutlery was damaging the environment.

Needless to say this did not work, and Lafayette glared at him so fiercely Thomas briefly wondered how Burr wasn't incinerated. Burr backed away quietly, sending Thomas a deeply apologetic look, as though he had personally let the entire country down. Thomas gave him a small shrug in response, before looking back at a rather stone faced Lafayette.

"What is this about?" Thomas inquired, because it was far better to discover what situation he was in than prolonging the inevitable. Lafayette continued regarding him in evaluation, and Thomas tried to stay as calm as possible.

"You and Alex." He said bluntly, as though that was enough explanation, but unfortunately, it was. At least Lafayette didn't know what was going on; he wouldn't be careful in his statements, and would most likely approach Thomas at the least opertune moment. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Thomas asked slowly, this creating a promise; I'll tell you what I know if you tell me first. At first, Lafayette seemed to hesitate, evidently feeling as though, with enough persuasion, Hamilton would tell him. Then, Lafayette seemed to remember that Hamilton has more stubbornness than both him and Thomas combined, so he gave a sigh.

"He can't shut up about you." Lafayette shrugged, as though Thomas should know about this already, and shouldn't be a surprise to him. Thomas raised an eyebrow, disbelieving, so Lafayette hastily added, "Well, moreso than usual. What's up?"

Lafayette had to be lying, yet he had no reason to do so. Hamilton didn't really care about what Thomas did, since he varied between the incredibly rare occasions of asking for help to often making sure that Thomas knew just how disliked he was. Thomas was too tired to deal with this, and didn't want Lafayette demanding explanation.

Slowly, "He hasn't told you, then."

At this, Lafayette narrowed his eyes. It was clear that if Thomas desired to maintain his life, he would have to tell Lafayette the truth. His only sufferance was the fact that Lafayette knew how to keep secrets, and would do so in order to keep contacts and friendships. Lafayette looked at him. "One minute. Explain."

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

"You're an idiot." Lafayette announced, looking torn between the desire to laugh and cry. Thomas didn't contradict him, because as usual, Lafayette's judgement was correct. It took a spectacular moment of stupidity to get him into the situation he found himself in. " _He's_  an idiot. I'm  _surrounded_  by idiots. Alex and  _John_  -  _quel est ce bordel?_ "

"I've already assumed Hamilton and Laurens were interested in eachother." Thomas offered, because it was true. Laurens enjoyed Hamilton's company more than anyone else, and Hamilton had no reason to lie about him and Laurens. "It isn't that unreasonable."

It was awkward, to say the least. It was as though trying to tell a parent about a date - uncomfortable, unnecessary, and he'd rather talk to Aaron Burr about this, because Burr wouldn't care that much. He certainly won't be staring at him, as though trying to evaluate Thomas's worth.

"You're fortunate I have a no-tell code." Lafayette eventually muttered, quite grudgingly, which meant that Thomas was relatively safe from facing Hamilton's wrath. "Does he know that you are interested in him?"

"No, and he will never know." Thomas retorted sharply, not even remotely surprised that Lafayette knew. He wouldn't be surprised if at least over half the school was aware of Thomas's interest in Hamilton.

Because that was what it was.

A passing interest.

The thought wasn't as confident and firm as he would have hoped. Lafayette raised an eyebrow, one that tried its damnedest to reach the ceiling. He was unsurprised, but vaguely frustrated. "You two need to sort it out. I mean it, Thomas. We both know you'll ignore it as long as possible."

Thomas looked at Lafayette with what could only be described as mild offence. He frowned at Lafayette, crossing his arms. "I would not ignore things."

"Right, and I'm the queen of England." Lafayette retorted flatly, causing Thomas's frown to deepen. Lafayette gave a tired sigh, scrubbing the back of his hand across his face. "I want to tell you something, but I've been sworn to secrecy. Merde." There was a pause, and Lafayette's face lit up. He shuffled slightly closer, voice lowered as though he was about to commit a crime and couldn't risk being overheard. "What if I told you that Alex talks about you more than John?"

"I'd think that he doesn't need to bitch about Laurens, because he's his best friend." Thomas replied, and Lafayette gave a small huff of defeat, muttering something about ' _hapless Americans_ ' under his breath. He scowled in response. "I don't see why this has anything to do with you."

"Seriously?" Lafayette asked, before giving a deep, frustrated sigh. He looked at Thomas as though he was a young child, in need of a delicate explanation of a difficult subject. "Never mind. I just - you need to think about it. Talk to James or something."

"Right." Thomas agreed slowly, because the finality in Lafayette's voice made him want to take a step or so back. Lafayette looked at him appraisingly, and Thomas took it as a thinly veiled warning. With that, Lafayette turned on his heel, and walked away. Thomas blinked, trying to make sense of what had to be one of the strangest interactions with Lafayette anyone had ever had.

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

"Burr told me you were cornered by Lafayette." James said in lieu of greeting, taking the vacant chair besides Thomas and shifting to face him with a concerned frown, as though Lafayette was known to have formidable questioning tactics. He was later than usual, and had walked into the classroom with a relatively guilty looking Burr. Thomas raised an eyebrow, giving a significant look up to the English Literature teacher, who was cheerfully unaware of the current buzz of conversation around her, before looking back at James. He was waiting on a reply, which meant that Thomas was going to have to give one, because if he didn't, James would merely ask Lafayette.

"I wasn't  _cornered_  by anyone." Thomas replied firmly, crossing his arms, trying to look as though he was busy studying the poem they were supposed to be annotating. After reading the first line, Thomas had decided that school was deeply overrated.

"Not what Burr said." James retorted. It was clear that James wouldn't give up this line of questioning, but Thomas wouldn't answer James until he was sure of the answer himself. Besides him, James exhaled forcefully, tapping his own against the desk subconsciously.

"Lafayette approached me."  Thomas eventually replied, careful with his phrasing. He was searching for an escape, perhaps Burr - or someone like Burr - to discuss a topic such as paperclips with, but the only distraction he could find was Elizabeth Schuyler and Theodosia Bartow loudly chatting about some upcoming party that Thomas  _really_  didn't care about. James didn't allow him to change the subject, and quickly continued the line of conversation.

"Why? Is it about you liking Hamilton?" James sounded curious, as though he didn't already know the answer. He was waiting in Thomas to confirm this, because it meant that Thomas would be forced to answer more questions. Thomas merely glared at James, promptly informing him that his tactics weren't working, and James raised his hands in defence. "I just think he's worried about you. I am. Look, I know you're shit at feelings, but you need to sort this out, or you're going to get hurt."

"That's basically what Lafayette said." Thomas muttered, giving up on searching for a diversion, shifting si he could face James and grimacing slightly when he saw genuine concern. James was right, he did need to sort this out, but it was so much easier pretending that he didn't care.

"He's right." James stated, looking far more serious than Thomas expected. It seemed that James, much like Lafayette, didn't think that Thomas was doing an adequate job of making good decisions, and currently, Thomas found himself agreeing with them.

"I know." Thomas conceded, thinning his lips. He wrote a random annotation on the poem, highlighting a random line, so that he didn't have to deal with James's concern. "Honestly, I'll be fine."

"It's not just you I'm worried about." James replied, but didn't elaborate. Thomas didn't ask him to, as he would tell Thomas when he wanted to, and badgering him would only prolong this.

The lack of distraction that came with James closed off from conversation and a less than engaging lesson meant that he spent the rest of the hour attempting to focus on work, but being dissuaded. His entire life had become a romcom, and not even a half decent one. It didn't help that Hamilton was acting really fucking weird, not hesitating to insult or argue with him in lessons, but the bite from the comments had been lost, as though Hamilton was continuing a tradition. Hell, Hamilton had actually  _smiled_  at one of Thomas's sharper comments, which meant that the rest of the lesson was spent in complete distraction - much like his current situation.

When Hamilton wasn't occupied with giving retorts and unsubtle insists to Thomas, he was talking to either Laurens, Mulligan or Lafayette. Occasionally, the small group would break out into laughter, often with Hamilton telling them all to ' _shut up, it isn't that funny, and it's rude to laugh at the suffering of your friend._ '

Perhaps Thomas was paying too much attention to Hamilton than normal. James certainly agreed, opting to either frown at him, or hide a knowing grin. Lafayette, however, would occasionally catch his eye and look vaguely threatening, as though he was imploring Thomas to take a course of action that was quite lost on him.

It took a second or so of James nudging him and the sound of clattering chairs to realise that the lesson was over. He glanced at his work, then at James, before deciding that he would finish this later. It would only take a few minutes, as long as he wasn't distractedly thinking of Hamilton.

Again.

"I assume you and Hamilton will resume whatever the fuck is going on between you two?" James politely inquired, as though this line of questioning was the norm. Thomas really hoped that it wasn't becoming normal. He glared at James in response, because they both knew he was. James shrugged. "Keep it PG, and for the love of God, please don't let yourself get hurt."

"I won't." Thomas muttered defensively, and James looked at him as though there was about to be a stern reprimand. However, such a comment didn't come, as both noticed Hamilton. Thomas tried to remain casual, but judging by the quirk of James's eyebrow, James could see right through this. He pushed away the odd urge to adjust the cuff of his sleeves.

Hamilton noticed him then. He offered Thomas a small smile, glancing curiously at James, before gaining a slightly unsure look. At this, James gave him a prompt goodbye, and a surprisingly subtle thumbs up.

"How do I know if someone likes me?" Hamilton asked, eyes searching for Thomas's reaction, as though there was something he needed to reassure himself of. Thomas gave him a small frown.

"As in, if Laurens likes you?" He replied. They walked down the corridor, steps matching, both carefully watching the other's reaction. Hamilton frowned, as though Thomas had asked a completely irrelevant and confusing question, before giving a small sigh.

"As in, in general." He elaborated with a shrug. Thomas paused, unsure of how to describe truthfully without being too truthful. He was going to answer Hamilton, but he needed to be careful. He was incredibly intelligent, and it wouldn't take much for him to put one and one together.

"If someone likes you, they'd probably just tell you." Thomas offered as an answer, which only caused Hamilton's drown to deepen. He seemed to be assessing something, putting things together based in words and other things he had observed.

"If you liked someone." Hamilton stated slowly, carefully. It was as though he was preparing himself for the answer, and didn't expect it to be a positive one. "How would you honestly react?"

He briefly considered lying, as that would be far easier to cope with. Lying, however, took effort, and meant that he had to document and maintain it. It didn't help that both James and Lafayette would be able to contradict whatever he said, so he shrugged. "I'd likely neglect telling them."

"That's what Lafayette said." Hamilton muttered, seemingly to himself, as he didn't look for Thomas to confirm or challenge this statement. Thomas was relatively confused by this, but decided it would be easier to ask Lafayette later. A silence fell between them, loaded and tense, but neither broke it. Thomas focused on his steps, keeping them even and matchings Hamilton's pace. He risked a glance at Hamilton, surprised to see that Hamilton met his eyes. Thomas raised an eyebrow, and Hamilton offered a small shrug. "If I was - involved with someone, how can I tell they like what I'm doing?"

"Again, they'd probably tell you." Thomas answered. This was far safer than any other response, but Hamilton accepted this. His eyes developed a sharp, almost questioning edge.

"Did you like it?"

Thomas almost stumbled over his steps. It was a reasonable question, he knew that, but he sure as hell didn't want to answer it. Hamilton didn't seem as though his words weren't rhetorical, which meant that Thomas was left to lament the particularly poor life choices he had made. In doing so didn't provide him an adequate response that didn't involve (more) embarrassment and awkward confessions. He offered, almost halfhearted, "I'm not Laurens, am I?" There was a pause. Hamilton continued to look at him for an answer, which meant that he had to concede in the most casual, uncaring way possible, despite the fact that his pulse was rapid and his mind was  _helpfully_  supplying him with all the wrong things to say. "Yeah. Try not to let that go to your ego."

At this, Hamilton bit back a grin. He looked as though he wanted to say something significant, but wasn't sure how. Instead, he smiled at the ground, taking his time to reply. "No promises." 

"Arrogant." Thomas quipped, which garnered him a slight nudge in response, and a muttered insult that sounded suspiciously like ' _pretentious_ '. Magnanimously, Thomas chose to ignore it, opting instead to lead the route to a part just outside the school gates. Surprisingly, Hamilton was content in following, only trying (and failing) to bait him into an argument twice. The exchange was mostly light insults and less than witty comebacks, but the routine was comfortable and familiar.

It was when a pause in the conversation, one there Hamilton had his back resting against a wall and Thomas standing perhaps too close to be considered innocent, that the atmosphere shifted. Before it had been light, easy, but now - with Hamilton so close to him, close enough to be able to feel his warmth - there was an underlying spark of tension. When Hamilton spoke, his voice was hushed. "If you want to kiss someone, how do you know they want it, too?"

Thomas felt his heart stammer. It was the way Hamilton had said it - with a light implication barely hinting at his tone, eyes focused and expression open. His eyes glanced down to Thomas's lips, before back up, meeting Thomas's eyes. Thomas paused, before speaking. "Ask them."

This appeared to be the answer Hamilton was waiting for. His pupils dilated - just slightly, and most likely an instinctive response to being so close to someone else, not because he was nearly pressed against Thomas. "Do you want this?"

"Yes." Thomas answered.

Warm lips met his own. He took control, shifting so that Hamilton was backed against the wall. Hamilton's breath hitched in his throat, trying to gain some control by nipping gently against his lip, before licking at the areas he had bit down on. Each movement caused a dull heat to coil low around his chest, the feeling of slick lips against his sending bright sparks. There wasn't a battle for dominance, more like a question of permission. Thomas allowed Hamilton some control, which meant that he opted to trail his hands up and down Thomas's chest.

Thomas moved back to breathe, to calm his racing heart and think about what the fuck just happened when he wasn't distracted by Hamilton against him. Hamilton seemed to have the same idea, and a pause stretched out for several seconds. He moved back, pausing for Hamilton to understand the nonverbal offer of movement instead of awkwardly standing in silence. Focusing on steps were far better than thinking of the quiet that he wanted to break. Eventually, he spoke. "Why did you ask me to help you with this?"

A brief sign of something flashed across Hamilton's expression, before dulling quickly and Hamilton chose to shrug, biting down gently at his lips. This was way too distracting, so Thomas looked away. "You were the best option. Why did you agree?"

Because he _wanted_ to. He wanted to know how Hamilton would feel, pressed close to his chest, how his lips would feel against his, what his gasps and moans would sound like. Thomas quirked an eyebrow in challenge, as though he was daring Hamilton to call him out on an obvious half-truth. "It's something to do."

"It's certainly something." Hamilton muttered quietly, quiet enough that Thomas wasn't sure if he had actually heard him, and was therefore unable to make a retort. Hamilton's hands were still resting against his chest, his right hand pressed against Thomas's heart. He looked up at Thomas through his eyelashes, seeming almost nervous. "Weird question - would you be able to go to this party the Schuylers are throwing? With me, as in."

Thomas wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. He paused, frowning, trying to double - then triple - check if he had, in fact heard correctly. This was difficult to do, as Hamilton was being a significant distraction. Thomas eventually answered with an even, "How come?"

"It's going to be fun." Hamilton answered, as though it was perfectly reasonable to ask someone that he swore was the bane of his existence to a party thrown by three people that, majority wise, disliked him. He wasn't sure why Peggy Schuyler didn't seem to mind him being alive, but he knew not to question these things.

"I hate fun." Thomas deadpanned without even hinting at a smile. At this, Hamilton's lips quirked up in amusement, and he raised an eyebrow.

"I can tell." Hamilton retorted flatly, as though Thomas was known for his fun hating ways, and he shouldn't have even suggested the idea. Thomas quietly muttered a response, loud enough for Hamilton to hear him, but too quiet for him to pick up on anything distinguishable. Hamilton rolled his eyes, a light note to the way he looked at Thomas. "You don't have to. It's just - everyone else would be going, even  _Seabury_ , and I think you'll like the scene."

"Like the scene?" Thomas repeated slowly, dragging the words out in a drawl. Hamilton scowled at him, because he was avoiding giving an answer, and they both new it. Thomas sighed, painfully aware of how difficult it was to say no to someone he likes, let alone someone he's interested in. "I'll go."

"Great." Alexander grinned, as though Thomas had just promised to complete an impossible feat for him. He supposed dealing with the drunken versions of people he didn't particularly like when sober was going to be testing. "Yeah, that's - well, good. Great. I'll text you the details?"

There was a pause, and Thomas raised an eyebrow, trying to think of that exactly that meant, since Alexander didn't have his number, which only led to one conclusion. "Are you asking for my phone number?"

"No." Alexander said quickly, trying to sound innocent but failing terribly. He grimaced at this, before hastily amending. "I mean, yes, but I was being subtle and cool about it."

"The word subtle does not remotely associate with you." Thomas retorted. The idea that Alexander was asking for his phone number was seemed completely incomprehensible, but thankfully, Alexander had misinterpreted his confusion.

"I'm very subtle." Alexander insisted, sounding vaguely offended at Thomas disbelief. Thomas spared a huff of derision, looking at Alexander as though he wasn't quite able to understand and had therefore garnered pity.

"Sure." He offered, nudging Alexander slightly, grinning when Alexander copied him. He was wearing an expression of frustrated agitation, frowning deeply with his arms crossed, though he was trying to hide the amused quirk to his lips that broke the effect.

"I am." He muttered under his breath, as though if Thomas didn't hear him, he wouldn't be able to contradict, and therefore would lose the arguement.

"Not disagreeing with you." Thomas shrugged, though he took care to make sure he sounded as though he was merely agreeing with Alexander to keep the peace. This, of course, caused him to mutter rapidly in Spanish - due to Thomas's understanding of French, he was only able to pick up a handful of similar words, and none of them were particularly favorable.

They arrived on Fremont Street, where the path forked off into two different directions. Both paused, hesitating, neither willing to end the light conversation they had somehow been able to carry. Alexander offered him a small, genuine smile, one that Thomas returned, before they exchanged goodbyes.

Even as he left Fremont and headed down West Crescent, Thomas was smiling at the ground, thoughts light and centered entirely around Alexander. This time, Thomas decided that he wasn't going to ignore this.

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

It took roughly one uncomfortable hour of self reflection and a particularly garish test that he had found online to tell him that his weird relationship with Alexander wasn't merely a passing interest. After the results had appeared, he wasn't even surprised. However, he was frustrated, and swearing at the screen achieved nothing but added frustration when he realised how stupid it was to argue at something that isn't sentient. Thomas grimly read over the results on e more. He knew that it was complete shit - a bunch of yes-no questions didn't dictate how people feel, but it was easier to box things in neatly; less messy, and god knows he needed some time of organisation. Unfortunately, the author - most likely a young teenager with an alarming affinity for pink - had never heard of the word _organisation_ , or correct grammar. He didn't bother hide in distaste at the liberal use of exclamation marks, as though he was supposed to be  _happy_  about _loving_  someone that was interested in somebody else.

Fucking  _delightful_.

The only reasonable reaction to this was to stay up until midnight watching heinously clichéd movies and providing his own surprisingly bitter commentary. Alexander hadn't messaged him yet, and that was really bothering him, but there was no way in hell he was messaging first.

He changed his mind after two minutes, typing out a simple greeting, before having second thoughts and deleting it. This happened four more times, until he just gave up. Normally, in a situation like this, he would message either James or Lafayette in light of this discovery, but he didn't want to gain James's empathy, or Lafayette's ' _I told you so'_ s.

He finished of annotating what had to be one of the worst poems known to date, not bothering to read over them. He didn't care, and his thoughts were uncharacteristically rapid, unclear and frustratingly difficult to steady. In short, he currently felt useless.

He glanced at his phone.

_Fuck it._

Thomas quickly typed out a small, unassuming 'hey', pressing send before he could talk himself out of it. Unfortunately, this meant that he stared down at his phone with something akin to distant horror, wondering what the hell he had been thinking. When there was no immediate reply, Thomas double checked to make sure he he had actually sent the message, and it had correct spellings. When he glanced at the time on his phone, however, it became apparent that the reason he wasn't receiving a reply was because it was five minutes past midnight.

With a small sigh, he put his phone on charge, and tried not to think about the practical and surprisingly quick way he had decided having an active love life was overrated.

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

James seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to a disturbance in Thomas's life. He was already able to (correctly) assume what had happened, and had decided to let Thomas lead the majority of conversation, not even mentioning the subjust that he obviously wanted to bring up. They were sat in their homeroom, the teacher completely unbothered by the chatter or the fact that many had mysteriously migrated to the other side of the room.

"There's some social event happening." James offered calmly, choosing one of the safer lines of discussion. "Thrown by the Schuylers."

"I'm going." Thomas stated, causing James to promptly choke on air. He looked at Thomas, eyes wide with shock, as though Thomas had just expressed a profound desire to elope with Charles Lee and open a furniture shop.

"You don't like most people." James said slowly, as though he was trying to convince himself that this was still fact. He looked at Thomas for agreement, looking slightly lost, so Thomas sighed.

"Ale - Hamilton asked me to." He shrugged, thankful that instead of picking up on the fact that Thomas had slipped up on the name, he inquired after the fact that Thomas was willing to socialize with other teenagers. They both knew that, despite being the same age, his peers often lacked basic sophistication that Thomas had made a point of maintaining.

James sighed deeply, appearing as though Thomas had personally aggrieved him. He closed his eyes for a long time, as though when he opened them, it would mean that he had merely imagined the past few minutes. Of course, he had no such luck, so he sighed once more. "Have you ever said no to him?"

"Of course I have." Thomas answered defensively, crossing his arms and trying not to scowl at his friend. "All the fucking time. Just - not if he's _asking_ me for something."

"You've got it bad." James sent him a small smile, one that was tired around the edges but still honest. Thomas returned it, trying to ignore the fact that James was right. He offered a denial, which was at this point a half-hearted token protest. James sighed again. "As much as I find large groups of people unpleasant, there's no way in hell I'm letting you suffer alone."

"Never said I would suffer." Thomas muttered, frowning at James in mock offense. Even though he was grateful for James's promise of companionship,.he didn't want to show how anxious he was. "I'm a delight to be around."

"You're also modest." James added flatly, raising his eyebrows. Thomas made a show of being deeply touched, putting a hand over his heart and giving James a saccharin smile, causing James to wordlessly scoff, rolling his eyes.

He grinned in response, opting to burn time by preoccupying himself with his phone. There was roughly five minutes until the first lesson. He tensed when he saw that he had five messages, none of them he had been aware of. Two were from James, the rest from Alexander.

He tried not to grin at his phone like a goddamn idiot, reading the messages sent two hours ago. The first was an extravagant greeting, with formal titles, then underneath that, the details to, as James had put it, 'some social event'. The most recent one was Alexander complaining about being abandoned, so Thomas typed a flat reply stating his _deepest apologies_ for not keeping his phone with him every second of the day. The reply was almost immediate, and equally sarcastic, which caused Thomas to give a soft laugh. James looked at him weirdly, but otherwise didn't mention it. The quick back and forth lasted until the bell rung, so after one last, relatively scathing retort, he pocketed his phone and walked with James to his first class.

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

By the third lesson, Thomas could tell that Lafayette wasn't going to drop the subject entirely, but merely give him some space before continuing. Perhaps he could tell by the steely determination that tensed Lafayette's shoulders, or the way that he seemed to have a million questions.

Most likely, though, was the way Lafayette sat besides him, turned to face him, and stated, "I'm not going to drop this subject, Thomas."

Thomas blinked, trying not to grimace. He opted, instead, to turn and face a window, giving the remark of, "Why, yes, it is nice weather we're having. I'm so glad you pointed this out to me."

Lafayette looked torn between shouting for half an hour or having an aneurysm. Thankfully, he chose neither, and opted to give a sigh. "You have a decision. You are either going to listen to me complain loudly for an hour or move - with James - to my table, where I can see how you and Alex interact."

"I heard my name." James frowned, promptly joining the conversation, and looking slightly worried. He looked at Thomas for confirmation, before back at Lafayette with wide eyes. "Why have I heard my name?"

"Neither are good." Thomas replied, ignoring James's question to glare at Lafayette. Lafayette looked completely unrepentant, shrugging in response. "Just leave me and my sad life in peace."

"Never." Lafayette retorted. "Now, I shall commence the complaining."

"Thomas?" James asked, sounding very alarmed. His eyes flicked between Thomas and Lafayette, searching for an answer that he would be unable to find. Thomas sighed, deciding to explain what had happened tersely as Lafayette complained about the fact that orange flavored things were always terrible. James was hesitant to continue the conversation, torn between giving his own input or agreeing with Lafayette. Eventually, he said, "I mean, we're in Latin, so both Laurens and Mulligan are in Spanish. It's not as though we would be greatly intruding."

"Traitor." Thomas scowled, at the exact same time Lafayette's eyes lit up and he announced, "Exactly!"

"Lafayette, if you want to watch my interactions with Hamilton, why couldn't he just come here?" Thomas asked, pained, and Lafayette huffed, throwing up his hands dramatically, as though Thomas was trying to frustrate him by asking questions.

" _Parce que_ , my friend, you are situated far too close to the teacher." He answered.

Which was how Thomas found himself at the back of the classroom, internally screaming, sat besides a rather guilty but curious looking James. Lafayette, because he was evil, had decided to sit besides James, which meant that when Alexander entered the classroom, the only availability would be besides Thomas. Swearing at him in French only earned a delighted, damn near gleeful grin.

When Alexander arrived, he first glanced towards Thomas's usual area, before up to Lafayette. He frowned when he noticed the new additions, but didn't look surprised. Thomas saw James grin broadly, so he kicked him underneath the table. This succeeded in halting the stupid, knowing smile in its tracks, but also meant that he was going to constantly annoy Thomas by kicking his foot.

"Lafayette?" Alexander inquired flatly, glancing up from Thomas's eyes to look at Lafayette, before back at him. He seemed vaguely amused, despite Lafayette's dramatic and feigned offence at being a suspect.

"Lafayette." Thomas confirmed, offering a smile that Alexander returned. He tried to ignore Lafayette staring at him, yet tried to keep his face as neutral as possible so he was slightly more difficult to read. "He has a rather strong hatred for orange."

"Yeah." Alexander agreed, giving a small grimace. He had shifted so that he could face Thomas better. He was biting back a small grin, one that Thomas recognised as an expression Alexander wore when he was about to start an arguement. "It's a damn shame, since orange is the best flavor."

Thomas feigned distaste, scowling at Alexander as though he has just insulted his mother and his state under one breath. Alexander was unable to hide his grin at having succeeded. "You're fucking insane. Words can not describe just how  _wrong_ you are, but damn it, I'll try."

Thus started the strangest, most random arguement he had ever had with Alexander. Even as the Latin teacher entered the room, four minutes late and mumbling something about having to contact someone's parents, Thomas explained how orange was the weakest thing known to man, much to Alexander's false chagrin.

"I know better than to take the opinion of a heathen the heart." Alexander stated flatly, voice lowered as not to disrupt the ongoing lesson. Thomas glowered at him in response, muttering about how Alexander had no taste whatsoever, and therefore rendered his comment invalid. He was able to disregard the way his heart felt lighter, or his mind wondering how Alexander's hand would feel in his.

The rest of the lesson passed without much ceremony, the main highlight being Alexander deciding that English wasn't enough to express his profound disappointment, and switched between Spanish, Latin, and French. Thomas would retort likewise, swapping Spanish for Italian and mentally thanking his mother for insisting on putting him through classes because the language was ' _romantic_ '.

At the end of the lesson, they walked together, despite his next lesson being History, and Thomas's being Geography. They exchanged light barbs the entire route, only coming to a stop when Alexander gave a ' _see you later, you asshole'_ and left for his classroom, which meant that he was stuck with a cheerfully knowing James, but he couldn't muster up any frustration at this, feeling far too positive about his interactions with Alexander.

 

**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|**

 

"I'm not equipped for situations like this." James hissed, pacing up and down a small section of the sidewalk, and casting the occasional look of betrayal at Thomas, as though it was his fault he was forced to tag along to a party thrown by Schuylers. He pulled a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Thomas, I have a life, but not a social life."

"At least you're not going to be required to deal with Laurens." Thomas retorted, less then sympathetic, because he was focused on his own panicking. James huffed, evidently disagreeing, but said nothing. He double checked the time - half an hour later than stated, because there was no way in hell he was going to be the first to arrive. Alexander, however, had mild disapproval of this plan, and opted to send a long string of frowning emojis. Thomas grinned down at his phone, sending a curt reply.

He heard the quiet muttering before he saw its source. Both he and James turned around, nearly in unison, staring down the street and at someone who was staring back. Thomas narrowed his eyes, recognising the person from a distance but unable to place it. The person, however, recognised them, and offered an awkward wave. This promptly told him who the person was, as he knew of only one person that could wave awkwardly. James reached the same conclusion, and, in his surprised state forgot about his nervousness as he asked, "Wait, is that _Aaron Burr_?"

"I think so." Thomas replied as Burr approached, his hands stuffed in his pockets and looking a few shades paler than usual. As soon as he was close enough to be overheard, he started to ramble.

"I don't want to be here but Theodosia's going to be there, so-" Burr cut himself off, looking rather panicked, and sent a dark look at the Schuyler's house a few meters down. People were milling around the outskirts, slowly ambling inside. Burr shook his head, seemingly to discard a thought, before inhaling deeply. When he spoke, his voice was less rushed, and he backed a half step away. "I'm late because I was busy freaking out, which means I can't show up because I was _late_."

"Oh _hell_ no." James grabbed Burr's arm, eyes wide and voice raised rather loudly to underline the seriousness of his point. "If you're allowed to back away, then so am I, but I can't because I promised Thomas that I wouldn't, so _you're_ coming with _us_."

Burr mumbled a rushed protest, bit James wasn't letting up, so he followed sheepishly, eyes directed to the sidewalk and lips thinned into a tight grimace. They were mostly unnoticed, as it seemed half of the entire school had decided to arrive. He cringed as he watched a fourteen year old chat loudly into her phone about how  _awesome_ the party was. James also noticed, and he squared his shoulders, looking like he wanted nothing more than to lecture the girl about the dangers of underaged drinking and why being outside at eight in the afternoon wasn't safe.

He seemed to realise how hypocritical that was, considering the fact that they were only two years older than her, so sullenly remained quiet. Burr was searching around the room, standing as tall as he could in search. However, when he found who he was looking for, he quickly looked away, looking like he wanted the floor to give in and save him from socialization.

" _Mon cher ami_!" Lafayette shouted, the voice carrying loudly over the shouts and laughter. Thomas watched as Lafayette waded through the sea of students, eyes bright and gripping a bottle of wine in one hand. Both Thomas and James eyed it in distaste,  but Lafayette didn't notice. _"Ça va? Merde_ , I mean, how are you?"

"Dead inside." Thomas replied flatly. Burr gave a small mutter of agreement, seemingly relieved that Lafayette had arrived as a welcomed distraction. Lafayette laughed brightly, clasping a hand on Thomas's shoulder with probably more force than necessary.

"My guess is you will be looking for your _copain_." Lafayette mused, wiggling his eyebrows with less coordination than expected. Thomas huffed, thinning his lips at the accidental reminder of Alexander and Laurens, and why Thomas wasn't ever going to be with Alexander.

"He's not my boyfriend." Thomas scowled, which caused burr to glance sharply at him in a nonverbal question of who they were talking about, and James muttered setting contradictory under his breath, but his words were swept away under the loud, unpleasant music that was now being blared. 

" _Oui, oui, peu importe."_ Lafayette waved a dismissive hand, before pausing. He pronounced, slowly and with great care, "Semantics." He then grinned at his complete understanding of the English language, clapping his hands together. "Regardless, he is in - how you say? - _ah_ , the back yard."

"Don't leave me behind, you know I'm awkward." Burr seethed, eyes wide and grabbing onto James's arm in a vice-like grip. James snorted, reassuring him that he would still be forced to join them, because Thomas was far more awkward than he'd ever be. Thomas turned to face James and give a sharp contradiction, and when he turned back to Lafayette, he was gone.

"So..." Thomas began, looking between James and Burr with a slight frown, as though one of them would be able to make an excuse for him to leave. "Why don't we stand by the wall and ignore everyone?"

"That works for me." Burr agreed, and if Burr agreed, then maybe he should reconsider his choice. Thankfully, James protested loudly, which meant that he didn't have to go back on his statement.

"No." James stopped them, hands on hips and scowling. He stared at them both, eyes narrowed. "Look, Theodosia is on her own. So help me god, Burr, if you don't approach her, I will approach her myself."

Burr choked on air, looking between Thomas and James, as though Thomas was going to protest on his behalf. He glared at them both in a moment of deeply un-Burr-like expression, before backing away, steeling himself for a conversation with someone he liked. Thomas watched him go, feeling a vague sense of dread due to the fact that he was left alone with a very stern looking James.

"You know what I'm going to say." James stated calmly, voice laced with iron and held no room for arguements. Thomas wondered whether he should feign ignorance, but the look that James give him before he could do so answered this. He sighed, raising his hands in slight placation, before making his way to the back yard. James followed closely, but whether to offer moral support or make sure that he arrived, Thomas wasn't sure. He muttered to occasional apology to whoever he got into the way of, trying to avoid the masses of teenagers shouting, moving in different directions, and being overall frustrating to exist around. He edged his way to the kitchen - which, if possible, was more crowded than the living room and Thomas unconsciously thought of locusts swirling around areas with food. Surprisingly, Angelica was in the center of it all, laughing loudly at something someone had said.

By the time they were able to get to the back yard, James had been stood on or kicked six times, and Thomas had a front view of how alcohol turned people into idiots. Especially when he watched a boy his age stumble around the kitchen with his flashlight active in his phone, because he was convinced that his phone was missing. Thomas didn't bother to correct him, feeling himself age several years. James, at least, found this amusing. The air was near icy due to the humidity indoors, and a welcome change. James huffed, huddling in on himself. Thomas was about to comment on this, but his thoughts cut off when arms wrapped around his waist. Judging by the familiar scent of sandalwood and spice, Thomas was able to correctly identify that Alexander had found him.

Alexander leaned back, beaming up at Thomas, hands still against his waist. Thomas could tell that, whilst Alexander certainly wasn't drunk, he hadn't shied away from a drink or so, which explained the greeting he had received. Alexander looked damn near delighted, which meant that he probably had more than two drinks. "You made it!"

"I'll leave you to it." James said, giving Thomas a light nudge forward. Thomas turned briefly to mouth the word traitor at him, but the effect was lost by the fact that James was already walking away, back straight and shoulders squared. It meant that James wouldn't be back until he had ' _sorted things out'_ to his standards.

"Have you ever been so nervous about something that you meant to say one thing, but you ended up saying something completely different and now your friends won't stop teasing you about it?" Alexander asked, pace rapid and all in one breath. His eyes were wide with earnestness, as though he genuinely expected an answer and what he had said wasn't an oddly specific rhetoric. "Because I have, and it's not a good thing to do. Avoid that."

"I'm sure I will." Thomas replied slowly. It seemed that, instead of getting dazed and his movements slower, alcohol only made Alexander faster. Of course Alexander would be the exception to something like this.

At this, Alexander's entire face lit up and he pressed a quick kiss against Thomas's lips, too fast to react to. Thomas's pulse seemed to stop, before continuing rapidly. Alexander didn't seem to notice, opting to take hold of Thomas's hand and lead him somewhere, talking cheerfully and not noticing that Thomas wasn't able to fully understand what he said, busy reeling from shock. He recovered, however, when he saw who they were approaching.

"Alex?" Laurens asked, frowning. He had his arms crossed and was surveying the rest of the party goers with a frown, and Thomas rather unfavorably to a sulking toddler. Laurens met his eyes and raised a challenging eyebrow, as though daring him to start a fight.

Alexander obliviously remained unaware of the tension brewing in the air, and opted to excitedly gesture. "John! Hi! Look, this is Thomas!"

Laurens looked at Alexander, then his eyes passed to Thomas. He looked damn near calculating, as though Thomas had some hidden agenda, before replying tersely, "Yeah, we've met before."

"I've got Thomas with me." Alexander continued, as though he needed to repeat himself be ause ause Laurens wasn't quite able to grasp what he had meant the first time. Laurens nodded, tensing his jaw.

"How much did he have?" Thomas inquired flatly. They weren't quite glaring at eachother, but there sure as hell was an abundance of suspicion on both sides. Thomas didn't want to interact with Laurens whatsoever, because Laurens - not even a certain characteristic, just Laurens himself - irritated the fuck out of him.

"One bottle. Shit tolerance." Laurens replied. He then looked at Alexander, rather imploringly, and stated, "Continue as planned. I'm not being a distraction, we both know Lafayette will kill me."

"What?" Thomas asked sharply, glancing down at Alexander for answers. Alexander, however, was rather determinedly avoiding eye contact, wordlessly glaring at Laurens. Laurens merely shrugged, and with that, he walked off. Alexander watched him go with something akin to grief, and Thomas felt the need to remind himself that the odd, fierce feeling in his chest that was calling him to do something stupid wasn't jealousy. Even if he did want to order Laurens to back off and stay strictly platonic with Alexander.

"How about a drink?" Alexander offered, voice falsely bright, but before waiting on Thomas's reaction, he led the way to the living room. Thomas hastily followed, glancing at the passing people to check if anyone else he knew had attended. There was only Charles Lee, and there was no way in hell he would interact with him.

"What was he talking about?" Thomas asked, because Alexander was sure as hell avoiding something. Alexander sighed, looking torn, but after a few seconds of pause and consideration, he changed course from the kitchen and to the front yard. Unfortunately, someone had the awful idea of introducing kareoke, which meant that there was a cluster of sixteen year old girls shrieking along to some Taylor Swift single. Alexander exchanged grins with him, knowing exactly where Thomas's line of thought was, before resuming his endeavour to arrive to a near vacant front yard.

The only other people there were Theodosia and Burr, deep in conversation. Burr was gesturing to the stars in a wide, sweeping movement, and Theodosia was watching him with a fond smile.

"Right." Alexander began, eyes fixed to the floor and grimacing. He met Thomas's eyes, briefly, before glancing back down. It seemed as though he was looking for a way out, but when none came apparent, he continued. "What if I said that - when I'm around certain people - I suddenly forget how to use words and end up saying something completely stupid?"

"I'm similar." Thomas shrugged. He was watching Alexander carefully, observing the tension in his shoulders, or the embarrassed flush spreading across his face. Alexander cleared his throat awkwardly before meeting Thomas's eyes and maintaining contact. It seemed as though he was steeling himself to say something, but still had great reluctance to do so.

"I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to promise that you aren't going to be pissed. I know it's an unreasonable thing to make you do, but I'd rather remain silent than loose you."

"You sound serious." Thomas said, raising an eyebrow. At this, Alexander gave a small sigh, as though Thomas's reply was expected but still difficult. It was stupid, the way that Alexander had phrased his last sentence had caused him to still, heart steady despite the fact that Thomas felt it should be quick. Alexander seemed serious, moreso than Thomas had ever seen him, so he added, "I promise."

Alexander bit his lip, pausing before continuing so that his answer was carefully phrase and thought through. "It wasn't John. It was someone else."

Thomas frowned.

Alexander was looking at him, damn near imploring, yet he couldn't put anything together. At his evident lack of comprehension, Alexander sighed again, looking as though he was gathering all the courage he had.

"As in..." He trailed off, quickly breaking eye contact, shoulders bowstrigh taut. "I meant to say something to you, but I said something else, and I _know_ it's stupid, practicing kissing with the person you want to impress."

Thomas didn't understand until he did.

Something _clicked_ , and he looked at Alexander, as though he was double checking Alexander was there. He didn't notice the fact that his breathing had stopped, since his mind had promptly flat lined, replaying what Alexander had _said_ and what it had _implied_ over and over, until he finally spoke. "You mean-"

"Basically." Alexander finished for him, frowning down at the floor and looking bridled with guilt. It took Thomas a few seconds to comprehend the sheer ridiculousness of this entire, easily adverted situation that could have been solved days ago by _communicating_.

"You're a fucking idiot." Thomas stated. Alexander glanced up at him, seemingly stuck on deciding between hurt, disappointment, and offense, so Thomas chose for him. He wasn't thinking through his actions, movements seemingly on instinct, and he gently placed a hand against Alexander's cheek, noting the warmth and the surprise that flashed across Alexander's eyes. Several seconds passed, with Thomas merely looking at Alexander, at the soft brown of his eyes, or the smoothness of his lips. The sounds of students shouting, of laughter and music, fell into the distance as Thomas closed the difference between them. It was soft, light, and a statement _; I feel the same way._

Alexander seemed slightly dazed, staring up at Thomas with an expression similar to surprised amazement. His blush darkened attractively, partially hidden by the starlight. "We've done this entire relationship backwards, you know."

"It's involving us, Alexander." Thomas grinned, chest light yet simultaneously heavy with affection. "Why would you expect any different?"

**Author's Note:**

> Quel est ce bordel - What is this mess?
> 
> It was supposed to be what the fuck, but in all honesty I think that is better. This is so OOC I'm so sorry, I mean, at least Aaron Burr is accurate?? This is the closest to smut I'm able to write currently?


End file.
